


But I Must Have Stumbled Into Something

by wesawbears



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Geralt Whump Week, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, anti witcher prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: Written for Day 1 of Geralt Whump Week: Ostracization.Geralt forgets that Jaskier has never seen him thrown out of an inn or treated as less than. Instead of pushing away, Jaskier draws him in closer. Geralt struggles to deal with that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 483





	But I Must Have Stumbled Into Something

Generally speaking, for every contract Geralt took where he was paid fairly, there were three where he ended up with half the asking price, if he was lucky. That was the way of his trade. While poor townsfolk tended to give him his price up front, albeit without looking him in the eye, pricier contracts came with a greater risk of being swindled. 

Things had improved mildly since bringing Jaskier along. He could use his incessant chatter for good, it seemed, and more often than not they found themselves with a roof over their heads. They’d been traveling together for about a month and a half before Jaskier witnessed a contract go bad.

He arrived back at the inn after a particularly irksome fight with a noonwraith. He hadn’t expected it to be much of a scuffle, but she proved to be more full of rage than he anticipated. Now, all he wanted was a bath and a few moment’s peace. He collected his pay from the alderman (the full amount for once), and headed back to the inn. Before long, he heard the familiar din of Jaskier’s voice. He had to admit, inspiration had done well for Jaskier and he received far more coin than rotten fruit these days. Geralt allowed a small smile to grace his lips before schooling himself back into neutrality. After all, he couldn’t let the bard know that he was getting used to his presence. It would surely make him insufferable. 

Upon entering, Jaskier lifted his lute in acknowledgement and watched as Geralt settled in his usual spot in the back of the room, away from other patrons. He would wait for Jaskier to finish his set and then they could see how much coin they had to pool together for a room. Sharing was efficient and it wasn’t as though either of them were shy by nature. 

Apparently eager for details, Jaskier retired for the night after one last song and ambled over to Geralt. “All well?”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Well as it can be.”

“Yes, yes, noonwraiths tend to be tragic tales. Still, some good clearly came out of it.”

Geralt gave him a sharp look in return. A death was a death. He didn’t enjoy cutting down creatures, especially ones that had once been human. The idea of Jaskier turning those tales into a song, especially for Geralt’s benefit, made him squirm. 

Jaskier held his hand out, placing it over Geralt’s. “I only meant that they’re at peace. You needn’t glower so. How bad was it?”

“It was fine. Caught me off guard at first but I managed to strike from the side.”

“Noonwraiths are...how do you kill them again?”

“Specter oil on the sword.”

“Ah.” He pulled out his notebook and scribbled that down, tongue sticking out slightly as it did when he concentrated. How Jaskier could read the chicken scratch he called handwriting was beyond him, but that was his problem. “And specter oil is made of…”

Geralt allowed his string of questions. It was easy enough and to be honest, it was nice to share some of the things he knew with someone who cared. Jaskier was easily pleased, despite his dramatic nature, and it was calming to recite something memorized long ago, so that he didn’t have to concentrate on the confusing nature of conversation after expending his energy. 

Eventually, Jaskier closed his book. “That’s enough for now. I’ll get the rest of the details once you’re rested. I’ve put down my half for the room.”

Geralt nodded and stood, ready to carry his half to the innkeep and settle in for the night. When they reached him though, the man shifted, as if steeling himself from something. “I’m sorry. The room’s been rented.”

Jaskier cut in easily, as he had so many times. “Yes, that was me. I told you I would bring the other half once my companion returned.”

“Yes, well…” the man coughed. “I didn’t know your companion was…”

Geralt hmmed. He knew this would happen eventually. Frankly, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to be spoiled so by the benefits of traveling with the bard. He had been looking forward to a bed, but in his experience, fighting for the privilege was not worth the risk of rocks at his back and a crowd at his heels.

Jaskier however, scoffed. “The man who saved your town? I would think we would get a discount, not a cowardly excuse to use someone and send them on their way!”

“Jaskier,” he said lowly. “Leave it.”

Jaskier’s cheeks tinged pink with anger. “I will not! This is ridiculous. As long as a man gives you coin, what does it matter who sleeps in the bed if you’ve got it?”

“People won’t pay full price if they know a witcher used the room last.”

Geralt caught Jaskier’s arm before he could raise more of a ruckus than he already was. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier managed to swallow his rage and held his hand out. “My coin, sir?”

The innkeep returned Jaskier’s share and had the decency to look abashed. Without another word, Jaskier fled from the inn, Geralt following behind.

“Unbelievable,” Jaskier muttered. “What utter bollocks.”

“It’s fine Jaskier.”

Jaskier whirled on him. “It isn’t fine! He treated you like-like you weren’t-”

“Human?” 

Jaskier pursed his lips. 

Geralt sighed. He forgot that this was new to Jaskier. “It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last. I’m content to sleep elsewhere.”

Jaskier nodded, apparently too angry to speak anymore. Geralt led them out of town a bit, until they found a clearing level enough to set up camp. At least they had already eaten, so he wouldn’t have to expend more energy hunting. He felt ready to collapse, but shook off the latent weakness. He was getting soft from all these inns anyway.

Pulling his bedroll closer to the fire, he intended to sleep quickly, but Jaskier’s voice intruded on his silence. 

“That happens often?”

“Depends.”

“On?” 

“Nothing. Some people just don’t want witchers around.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it?” If he were human, he’s sure he wouldn’t relish the idea of a monster under his roof either. It was a simple fact of his existence.

“You deserve a bed. A roof. Honestly, Geralt, it’s like you don’t-”

“Don’t care? I’m not human, Jaskier. The things that bother you don’t affect me.”

A mirthless laugh erupted from Jaskier. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Geralt grunted. Jaskier would get used to this eventually. Realize that traveling with him was hardly the glamorous life he expected. He spent more often than not cold and hungry and bleeding. Expecting anything else only led to disappointment. And what would a creature like him do with a roof and a warm bed? Someone to share it with? People spoke of his grim smile, his haunting visage, his deathly complexion. A thing like him could only be a cold facsimile of a human.

“If I let every time I was thrown out of an inn bother me, I wouldn’t have lasted long on my own.”

“Oh, Geralt.” He heard Jaskier inching closer and tensed a bit. “You’re not alone.” He reached a hand out and Geralt flinched instinctively before he could stop it.

Jaskier pulled back and he could feel the silence between them. Geralt searched for the words to say, but came up empty. He wondered, as he often did, if being a witcher made speaking to others so hard, or if it was some broken, bitter thing deep within him. If he had always been this insufferable to be around.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Jaskier started and Geralt almost laughed.

“You can’t startle me.”

“Then…did you think I would hurt you?”

“No. Can’t do that either.”

“Then...what?”

Geralt hummed. “I...it’s been a long time.”

“Since someone’s touched you?”

Geralt felt the wave of humiliation wash over him, angry at his reaction. Was Jaskier really going to make him explain? How every human who knew what was good for them cowered at this touch, shuddered at the thought of his skin near theirs?

“It’s not as though I have much to offer.”

He heard Jaskier mutter and the shuffling of his bedroll moving closer. “Jaskier, you don’t have to-”

“I want to. May I have the privilege of sleeping by you? It’s cold.”

“Jaskier, I-”

“Please?”

Geralt nodded hesitantly. He felt a hand on his shoulder, somewhat familiar, before Jaskier laid his head on the place by the nape of his neck. His arms bracketed Geralt’s. It felt nice, not like a cage but...secure. 

“This okay?”

“Mmm.” Geralt nodded, already feeling himself drifting a bit. 

He thought he heard, “Goodnight, my wolf”, but it could have been a trick of the forest.


End file.
